


Vestiges

by demon_dream



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: American Sign Language, An actual ghost, Auras, Eating Energy, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ghost-like powers, Human Experimentation, Metahuman Experimentation, Pre-Brotherhood of Evil, Scars, Slade's Silky Voice of Doom, There is a plot I promise, homeless people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demon_dream/pseuds/demon_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gagged and battered, bleeding and mutilated, skin carved into new patterns or wisps of not-quite-smoke curling away from her skin— no matter what, she always seems to find herself taking refuge in a trash heap. So why does she even bother taking this girl's offer? Because she's a freak who bothers talking to soggy hobos in the middle of the night? If this goes south, she's blaming it on the hypothermia. And maybe those pretty hyacinth eyes.<br/>—<br/>Alternately, the story of a ghoulish metahuman and a demonic metahuman picking up the pieces of their lives. And the Titans were so convinced that Raven, of all people, would never bring home a stray...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vestiges

**Author's Note:**

> I plan to finish this regardless of how little feedback I get. However, suggestions and encouragement (or heck, even flames) are appreciated. I'm trying to not make Maledi a Mary Sue by any means, and I'm not ripping off Raven's powers. Raven, as a half-demon princess, is definitely in a higher category than a human ghost/voodoo doll. Maledi is shamelessly based on Banette from Pokemon. I regret nothing.

   Shaking with the bitter cold, wet from rain, hardly able to move for shuddering, she lifted bleary eyes to the girl at the mouth of the alley. The stranger's cloak was alive, not a sad excuse for a rag beaten into submission by the elements. Though perhaps 'alive' wasn't the right term, it felt... darker, than most things. Perhaps it would have repulsed someone else.

   It was a blissful void owned by the darkest of creatures, and it called her like a moth to flame. Still, she didn't move. In her experience, other people were not lurking in seedy alleys after dark out of the goodness of their Samaritan hearts. The blank violet eyes illuminated by a flash of disgruntled lightning didn't help matters much. Though the miles of bare leg were odd for this weather.

   The stranger scanned the grimy newspaper-slop and dead leaves lining the crude dead-end she called home, before fixating on her again. Or maybe just her eyes. "It's a bit too wet for sleeping outside."

   Like she didn't know that. Her body convulsed again, trying to generate a spark of life in the downpour. She couldn't respond anyway. She just kind of shrugged, and wondered if the other cared about this not-conversation at all.

   The girl kept looking at her. "I'm no good at small talk."

   Well, she couldn't talk. And why was she bothering, anyway? It wasn't like there were any good reasons to stop and talk to soaked homeless people in the middle of a storm sometime near midnight. Weirdo. Or maybe she was one of _those._...eh. At this rate, if promised the time to thaw out, and a warm bed for the night, she might actually consent to that sort of thing. It wasn't anything too new, for her. Still.... she tilted her head up, ensuring the spluttering streetlamp caught the gleam of strings over her mouth. Best to get the major freak-out out of the way, and see how it went from there.

   The violet-eyed stranger's expression didn't even twitch. "I see. I'll be blunt, then. Do you want out of this rain?"

   Um, yeah. She nodded slightly. Best not to seem desperate, appearance notwithstanding.

   "Is my house an acceptable shelter? We have hot water and extra clothes, and no risk of sexual assault."

   It would be too easy to lie to a pathetic urchin, but the deadpan offer at least seemed straightforward. A practical person wouldn't want to fuck a popsicle. She nodded again.

   "Is a house occupied by metahumans an issue?" ...risky. Very risky. But less risky than staying in this alleyway a few hours longer. Okay, maybe she was desperate. And this girl was probably a meta, after that comment, who might be able to kill her after using her.

   Not like she had any more promising offers, though. You only live once. She'd prefer to go out by murder than hypothermia. Slowly, deliberately, she attempted to sit up, and looked those eyes dead on.

   There might have been a smirk on the other's shadowed face, before blackness swallowed the world and snuffed out reality like a candle.

\---———---

Raven hadn't had any particular motivation to pick up that homeless girl. Or so she told herself, and certain emotions could shut their traps about it. She had stayed behind at Pinfeather's, an antique bookstore, to pick up a few bookbinding tips as payment for identifying a few cursed volumes, and discovering an entire crate of fakes with basic attention-diverting charms. A few of her grimoires could do with some repairs, and she didn't trust anyone else to handle those books wisely. Thanking the shopkeeper (it always paid to be in the good graces of people who dealt in rare books), she stepped out into the night planning to do some casual patrolling on her way home, enjoying the night air and discouraging any small-time criminals she happened across. Sometimes it was even fun. A few mysterious breezes, a flash of red eyes, and most of the small fry ran home with their tails between their legs.

Unfortunately it was raining.

Raven had sighed and begun to mutter her mantra for a portal through the astral plane to her room, briefly scanning her surroundings with empathy to avoid hitchhikers, when she felt the rolling chill of a mind clinging desperately to this world. That alone was enough to make her drop the spell purely from surprise. The interesting part was that the energy was bitter and dry like ashes in her mouth, rather than savory and thick like most leaking life-force. Dying, but aligned with death, or some sort of darkness. Small and soft and trembling at its core, worn and weary like old shoes, but clawing at the precipice of life with a grim determination that bordered on passion, and didn't quite manage.

She closed her eyes and focused on that strength, tracking it, drifting along the energy trail and firmly ignoring the eager saliva pooling in her mouth (half-human, half-human, half-human) until she paused where the pool deepened, opening her eyes in the physical plane on a dim, dingy alley, littered with soggy trash and decaying leaves (who knew where those came from, in the concrete bowels of the city) and thick with bleeding weakness that had sunk into the very bricks of the walls. This was definitely the place. But there wasn't even a rat quivering in the rain, much less a person. She was still partially in soul-form, just enough to ward away the rain, and closer to the murky fog of the dying person's essence, but.... they'd obviously been dying for a while. She couldn't confirm their presence visually, and while that normally wasn't a problem, the fact that the entire alley was fogged over with their energy meant she couldn't do much more than this empathically. She'd have to resort to wading through trash. Great.

Raven didn't consider leaving it alone because Curiosity (Intellect) had her by the throat at this point, with Affection and even poor little Timid urging her on. She had to know what this person was, what they were like, why they tasted like death but were very much alive and even somewhat pissed at the whole situation, although who was feeling that was muddled. Raven really wasn't looking forward to digging through alley trash, but stepped grimly forward to help in whatever way she could.

A red gleam.

She froze, and in a matter of milliseconds realized it wasn't a four-eyed menace with antlers, but low to the ground like a stray cat, feral eyes reflecting the pathetic streetlights. Vermillion faded to white, catching the light oddly and pulling it in towards strangely slitted eyes, although at this distance she couldn't figure out why they were bizarre. She focused, and a pile of garbage quivering beneath the onslaught of rain became the shivering, ragged bones of a person. A girl...? That was the safest assumption. Buried in gloom and grime she stared back at the Titan, weary and wary and utterly spent.

Judging by the eyes, she was a metahuman. And by the setting, a homeless metahuman. There had to be a story here.

But that could wait, because dead men tell no tales, and this girl was mere hours from a watery grave. ...okay, she'd found the dying person and she was apparently a superhero. The next course of action was obviously to save her. But... this was a bit awkward, too. It would be a good idea to say something rather than just portal the kid to the med bay, but... what?

"It's a bit too wet for sleeping outside." Well, she'd never claimed to have social skills. Way to go, captain obvious.

The pale red eyes narrowed slightly, sharpening a bit, before glazing over a little and yielding to her, resigned to whatever. A moment later her eyes cleared again, and she tilted her face into a dim shaft of orange light. The attatched emotion was simple and base, an opening sort of gesture, a display that wasn't quite a warning, and wasn't really hostile. Nevertheless, what she was displaying made something sick and prickly curl in Raven's gut. Gold wire, or thread, or maybe sutures? But those weren't metallic— twists of gold pulled and burrowed into her lips, crude and ghastly and somehow nightmarishly pretty, flesh pitted and bulging between the tight knots, skin partially healed over the threads. They gleamed in the low light, glimmering wickedly, lips twisted and warped into something like a tight little frown while placid rose-red eyes watched her quietly, icy rain battering her dark hair into the sloppy newspaper nest she claimed for a bed.

Raven had her emotions in a vice-grip and refused to give an inch, preventing any possible reaction (outrage, disgust, concern) from even touching her expression. This made conversation simpler. Persuading a mute, mutilated hobo to spend the night in the medical bay of Titans Tower would be simple enough. Hopefully. "I see. I'll be blunt, then. Do you want out of this rain?"

That answer was fairly obvious, but she might be the stubborn type... thankfully she seemed rational enough, nodding slightly with a very blatant 'Yes, dumbass' sort of vibe. Next question, then. Maybe she was still being an idiot with the questions, but this one would be hard to turn down. If she was in this girl's position, the perfect offer would go something like... "Is my house an acceptable shelter? We have hot water and extra clothes, and no risk of sexual assault." Maybe a pranking assault, but Beast Boy had a bit more class than taking advantage of a weak person, and it was laughable to think about the others trying anything funny.

The kid's response was another nod.

It would probably be a good idea to give advance warning, though. The girl was likely slightly paranoid in a feral way, and watching a green mongoose squeaking out Katy Perry's "Firework" skid down the banister would probably be enough to set most sane people off into the realm of insanity, not to mention Cyborg walking down the hallway with the USB ports in his skull exposed. He could be a bit absent-minded in the mornings. "Is a house occupied by metahumans an issue?"

Immediately the girl's guard slammed into place, mind suddenly muffled beneath a layer of psychic shields (rusty, pitted shields with rotten holes, but shields) and pale eyes as hard as fiberglass, but before Raven could attempt to react the shields crumpled like tin cans and her eyes fogged over with helpless resignation, something deep inside still firm and burning grimly. Slow and creaky like an abandoned mannequin rotted by the elements the meta curled and tilted upwards, hunched against the rain shattering on her skin like glass, unblinking and radiating that strange will to just keep existing, even if it meant the tortures of life would continue.

Raven had to admire her guts, and allowed the smallest of smirks as she acknowledged the girl's decision and swept them both away in the black flare of her soul.


End file.
